


the evolution of a birthday

by wepreachelectric (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: ! - Freeform, Birthday, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, this is literally all domestic crap and banter im
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/wepreachelectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which they can't help but be domestic all the time, and also its dan's birthday</p>
            </blockquote>





	the evolution of a birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cafephan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafephan/gifts).



> i have been so conflicted as to when to post this because you see, on one hand it's about dans birthday so yeah, i could post on dan's birthday but also i wanted so badly to have this be kirstens birthday present and that's on monday so like,, 
> 
> do you see my dilemma
> 
> but, im an impatient thing and i really want to show it to her and also show it to yous so surprise! and also happy birthday to both of my beans <3

On the first of Dan’s birthday’s that they’ve spent together, it’s horribly unplanned and soppy but, to him, it’s fitting.

They’re in that precious first stage of friendship where everything is shiny and new, and feels like it could shatter at any moment--it’s thrilling. Everything they say is sweet and planned out, just soppy enough to make the other blush, and there isn’t anything else that Dan wants in the world than what him and Phil have.

Other than maybe being able to spend his birthday with Phil. 

That would be nice as well.

Somehow, during one of their famous three a.m. conversations, Dan mentions this, offhand, but mentioned nonetheless.

It’s out there.

He doubts that it even went through on Phil’s end, he probably didn’t even hear it. It was really laggy anyways--Phil hears however, and that’s how Dan ends up waking up on his nineteenth at sunrise staring into the blue and brown eyes of his mother, and his best friend. 

They sing a horribly off-key version of “Happy Birthday” and Dan’s brother yells in the distance for everyone to shut the hell up.

They wait for Dan’s mum to leave and then Phil flops down next to Dan on the bed, face-first, and almost immediately falls asleep. “Been up since three to catch a train and get everything ready with your mum,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow and his mane of black hair.

“How did you and my mum even plan this?” Dan asks, still staring wide-eyed at the ceiling in shock, “how did you get my mum’s number?”

Phil lifts his head up a bit, so he can be heard a bit easier, “It’s called Facebook, love, you’re not the only one I’ve reached out to on the internet,” Dan can feel a hot blush creeping up his neck when Phil continues, “sometimes she sends me lovely gardening articles,”

“My mum doesn’t even garden,”

“And neither do I, but,”

“Have you and my mum been bonding over a fake hobby that you both think the other enjoys?”

“I’ve been catfished!” Phil exclaims, rolling over and announcing the predicament to Dan’s ceiling,

“What’s that?” Dan’s mum calls, “Did one of you say you’d like some catfish? I doubt there’s any at Tesco but I can look…”

“I want the truth,” Phil whispers, sending Dan into a giggling fit, causing him to roll over and muffle his laughter into Phil’s shoulder.

“We’re good mum!” Dan yells back, hoping his mother can hear him from downstairs, “we don’t need any catfish!”

 

***

On the second of Dan’s birthdays that they spend together, it’s cooped up in a stuffy dorm room with a tray of grocery store chocolate cupcakes and a new copy of  _ Fallout. _

This time however, Phil wasn’t hovering over Dan’s face to wake him up with cheerful birthday wishes, it was Dan, waking up at half past eleven to find Phil sitting on the floor, propped up against the side of his bed, and playing Grand Theft Auto. “What are you doing here?” he questions, voice scratchy from sleep and rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

Phil pauses the game, and stretches, every joint in his back and arms cracking with a satisfying series of pops. He rolls his head back, resting it on top of the bed, “Happy birthday!”

“Why didn’t you wake me up, you spoon?” Dan prods, poking Phil on the nose and laughing when his face scrunches up. 

“I tried three hours ago,”

“Obviously you didn’t try hard enough,”

“Dan,” Phil sighs, “I literally threw open your door and flopped down on the bed next to you and yelled ‘Happy birthday!’ and you stayed asleep like a log,”

“Oh,”

“One of your dorm-mates tried to come in and tell me to shut up, saw me laying here and actually took off his sock and put it on the door,”

Dan dropped his face into his hands, “No he  _ didn’t, _ ”

Phil shrugged, “Go check the door,”

“You check the door,”

“It’s your door,”

“Your mum’s a door,” Dan mumbles, sliding off of the bed and shuffling over to the door. “God damn!”

“I told you!”

“What so now everyone in this dorm thinks that I’m all hunkered in and having hot birthday sex?”

Phil winks, smiling as a deep red blush creeps up Dan’s neck, “Gives us a whole day to play with,” he pauses, turning around and digging something out of the red backpack sitting right next to him, “ _ this! _ ” Phil turns back around and brandishes a small wrapped package, swathed in bright silver and gold wrapping paper and topped with a sloppy, black bow.

Dan laughs, stepping forward to retrieve his gift, “What is this?”

“It’s a present,” Phil explains with a smirk, “do you really need me to explain the mechanics of this simple, human tradition?” 

“What are you  _ talking about _ ?” Dan laughs, poking at a loose corner of wrapping and raising an eyebrow, seemingly egging on the antics of his rambling friend, who not surprisingly, does continue.

“You see, Dan,” he begins, “people have been doing this for centuries, on the anniversary of the day we emerged from our mothers’ wombs, we obtain something of value that the other person wants and,”

“Oh, shut up,” Dan sighs, carefully peeling off the bow and reaching out and pressing it to the top of Phil’s head, and then ripping the rest of the paper off in a single piece. “Fallout?” 

“Thought you’d like it,”

“It’s awesome! Let’s put it in now!” 

Phil leans forward,  sticking out a hand and keeping the disk port on the Playstation closed, “Wait, let me finish this mission first,” 

“Are you playing my GTA again?”

“I’ve been here for three hours, what did you expect me to do?” Phil shrugs, “Also, I got you cupcakes, is it too early for a cupcake brunch?”

“I doubt that cupcakes really count as brunch but,” 

“But?”

“They’re cupcakes, good for anything really,” Dan says, finally settling in on the floor and resting his head on Phil’s shoulder, “You didn’t have to come out here today, you know,”

“Yeah, I didn’t,” Phil says, leaning more into Dan, “but I wanted to,”

 

***

By the third they’ve spent together, it’s not at a parent’s house, or a dorm room, it’s spent with a lie-in in the apartment they share together.

Together.

That’s a weird thing to say. 

Another weird thing--Dan woke up before Phil. 

For the first time in three years, he actually woke up before Phil, on his birthday, which is surprising considering the other’s obsession with having to be up at the ass-crack of dawn in order to wish him a happy birthday.

Anyways… 

This is nice. For a moment, there’s no pressure to be overly happy on a day to which yes, Dan does care about, but not to the extent that everyone else does. He can lay back and fall back asleep if he so chooses because, fuck it, it’s his birthday and if he wants to have a lie-in, he sure as hell will.

It’s still a little dark outside, and with blackout curtains on his windows, Dan is damned if he knows what it looks like out there. It’s June, and today the heat is cooperating, it’s just pleasantly warm, and he can hear the soft breathing of Phil next to him, and somewhere in the middle of all this Dan falls victim to the sweet embrace of sleep.

It’s his birthday, he’s allowed to.

By the time Dan actually, properly wakes up, it’s past noon, yet the day doesn’t feel like a waste just yet. 

Phil’s awake now too, and he’s already opened the curtains, which brightens the room considerably. Dan doubts if they’ll actually have to turn on the overhead light when they get out of bed.

“Happy birthday,” Phil smiles, voice still hoarse and scratchy from sleep. His hair is all pushed back and he has his glasses on--a look which, unadmittedly is one of  Dan’s favorites on him.

“What, no crazy ‘let’s wake Dan up’ birthday greetings this year?” Dan teases, 

“Nope, too tired, also figured you deserved a break, since the last two years were spent with quite a few people in the proximity,”

“Are you still referring to the fact that one of my dormmates thought that we were going to have open-door birthday sex last year?”

Phil rolls his eyes, “Maybe, also the fact that the year before we could hardly hold a conversation without your mum quadruple checking that no, she heard the whole catfish thing wrong and your brother stopping in every twenty minutes just to wink at me,” 

“I think he put his school tie on my door that year,”

“That would explain it,” then, with a wink adds, “we could do the whole open door--” pausing as Dan sinks back into the mattress with a smirk.

“So,” Dan asks, cutting Phil off,  “what are our plans for today?”

“Other than do you want to eat Indian or Chinese for dinner, none really,”

“So we’re allowed to just have a proper lie-in today?”

“Happy birthday!” Phil cheers, pulling the covers back up to his chin, as he sits up against the back of the headboard. Dan shifts, so he can lean on his shoulder and closes his eyes as Phil drops a muffled kiss against the top of his head, wrapping an arm around his back.

Yeah, he’s totally fine with doing nothing this year.

 

***

On the fourth, Dan finds himself stuck in the middle of an actual birthday party. 

They’re living in London now, him and Phil, and they are so close to all their other youtuber friends and it’s nice, but such a far cry from their previous years of quiet lie-in and Grand Theft Auto birthdays. 

It’s nice though, Dan thinks, to know that there are this many people here that care about him. 

They actually want to be there don’t they?

The party was Phil’s idea, “Our flat is big enough to hold them all, and,” he adds, “we actually live close enough to all of them that it actually makes sense to invite them,”

Dan just shrugs and mumbles something about how they better have a chocolate cake.

He enjoys the party, he really does, he’s just enjoying it from his spot in the corner, cup of beer in hand and chatting with anyone who walks by. He’s socializing, and he likes it, but he certainly isn’t going to go out of his way to involve himself into every single conversation that’s currently going on.

Phil however, flits around from person to person, laughing and poking jokes at every person he sees, filling the room with an easy, relaxed aura. Dan still doesn’t know how he does it. He seems to draw energy from every interaction that would normally drain Dan of any energy he would have.

Somehow, with his magical “socialization” powers, Phil notices Dan watches him and appears at his side, looping an arm through his and pulling him further into the party, and surprisingly, socializing is easier now.

It still isn’t the easiest thing but, with Phil here, it’s improving.

He supposes having a home full of people for his twenty-second isn’t the worst thing in the world.

 

***

Dan doesn’t imagine spending the majority of his twenty-third birthday vacuuming the kitchen, but then again, he didn’t really expect Phil to drop an entire, open, bag of white flour in the middle of the kitchen either. 

Phil just wanted to make a cake and with his literal buttery fingers--he fumbled a bit trying to unwrap the room temperature butter from it’s slippery wrapper--managing to drop the entire bag of flour in the middle of the floor. 

It was a warm summer too, and the fan that Phil had running on the counter behind him didn’t help the matter, in fact, it actually whipped the white dust into a dust storm that could only compare to the Great Dust Bowl. 

He just wanted to have it baking by the time Dan woke up… after all, there’s nothing quite like the warm scent of baking cake filling your house in the morning on your birthday.

Dan woke up early this year, again --to the sound of Phil cursing himself in the kitchen, but early nonetheless. He rolls out of bed and pads his way into the kitchen.

Upon seeing Phil standing amongst piles of swirling flour, he immediately turns around and returns wordlessly to bed and falls asleep again.

When he gets up (again) another three hours later, Phil is still in the kitchen, but now with the vacuum, trying to get up every last speck of white. It’s now that Dan finally sees the magnitude of the mess. The flour has nestled on the handles of the cabinets and down in the burners of the stove, it’s settled in the cracks between the tiles, and it’s blanketed Phil’s hair and jeans, reducing both to a sort of light gray.

“You look like an old man with all that flour in your hair,” he teases, ruffing a hand through it, causing some of the powder to shake free and float down onto Phil’s shoulders.

“Great,” mumbles Phil, “now it looks like I have dandruff,”

Dan chuckles, brushing off his shoulders, “Look, all better,” he says, taking the vacuum from Phil’s hands, “let me help you with this,”

“No, wait,” Phil protests, “it’s your birthday, you don’t have to,”

Dan shrugs, “Time is an illusion and in like, Japan or something it isn’t even my birthday, so let me help,”

 

***

By the sixth birthday, Dan likes to think that him and Phil have a pretty good thing going on.

Birthday-wise.

They celebrate with a store-bought cake in bed, a movie playing until they actually have to get out of bed because people will be arriving soon.

This year, it isn’t a big party, it isn’t their first birthday in a new apartment surrounded by new friends, it’s PJ and Sophie, Louise, Bryony, and Wirrow. It’s small but they’re all close, and it holds a warm sort of vibe that only comes with spending time with your favorite people.

They’ve only decorated because Phil insisted they hang up these streamers he found at the store while picking up milk for coffee and cereal, so they attach them to the walls lazily, and they flutter a bit in the breeze blowing in through their open windows.

Dan acts like he hates the bright teal and yellow streamers hanging, but really, he likes them. They’re endearing.

Phil catches him smirking up at the color and rolls his eyes. It’s been six years and he still refuses to admit that he actually kind of enjoys his birthday.

 

***

Fuck. 

It’s fitting that that’s Dan’s first thought today. He’s twenty five.

Twenty five years.

That’s a quarter of his life gone, figuring he lives to a hundred or something.

It’s funny, because if you asked him, say, five years ago how he would feel about turning a quarter of a century old, he’d probably freak out about not having enough time to have made an impact on the world yet.

Today though, he’s content. 

Except about the part about getting old because fuck that.

He’s content about feeling that he’s made an impact on the world. He’s got almost six million subscribers, easing that grain of doubt that used to live in the back of his mind which told him that dropping out of university was a bad idea, that he would never make it. He’s got a best friend who would probably go to the moon and back for him if he asked, and God does he love him. He’s got a show on BBC Radio 1, he’s actually gone on tour (holy shit!). His fanbase is weird, you’ve got to admit, but they’re the most loyal people he could ever hope to have the pleasure to meet. 

When he meets them he still gets an anxious flutter in his heart when he sees their eyes light up as if they’re saying “Holy heck, I’m meeting my hero,” and imagine that, being someone’s hero, that’s something that Dan never thought that he’d be able to hear someone saying to his face, ever. They hug him tight and he probably hears “I love you,” four hundred times a day, but it’s refreshing, they mean every ounce of what they say.

This year, he’s in Vegas and he’s feeling pretty hot and bothered. The heat, it’s like an oven in the Nevada desert and his all black ensemble isn’t helping too much either. Phil isn’t helping either, in his shorts and light, cotton t-shirt that just seems to mock Dan’s heavy warm one.

“I told you not to wear that,” he teases, his mouth twisting into a smirk, making Dan scowl and turn away in a huff, “it’s literally 33C outside, you’ll get heatstroke,”

“There’s always air-conditioning,” Dan reasons, “literally every building here has it,”

“But what about when you step outside? I don’t want to haul your sorry ass to the hospital,”

“No, but you can save that for tonight,” Dan teases back, causing Phil to groan and bury his face in his hands, 

“God,” he sighs, “I don’t know what I see in you,”

Dan laughs, walking up and grabbing one of Phil’s hands away from his face and slotting their fingers together, swinging their arms a bit, “Who knows,” he chuckles, “maybe it was my engaging personality and delicious ass,”

Phil snatches his hand away, throwing his arms in the air and storming a few steps ahead of a hysterical Dan, “I can  _ not _ believe you, Howell,”

“You love me!” Dan calls back,

Phil pauses, rolling his head back and staring at the cloudless sky, he’ll probably get sunburn just standing here, “You know, you’re lucky it’s your birthday,”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, because I can’t break up with you and your BS today,” he says with a laugh before dashing into the nearest gift shop, Dan trailing after, teasing with fake hurt and “You  _ asshole, _ ”

He throws open the door to the shop and is momentarily stunned by the blast of cold air inside, before he starts scanning over the tops of aisles and clothing racks before spotting a tall, black-haired figure standing in the back hiding laughter behind a hat stand.

Dan storms up, ready to throw out some comeback to their former lovers’ quarrel, when Phil steps forward and places a far too small, pink and blue cowboy hat on his head. “Smile!” he grins, pulling out his phone, ready to snap a picture. 

Dan, the horrible sap he his, gives in, biting his lip and rolling his eyes, “Did it come out good?” 

Phil’s silent, typing away something furious on his phone, only answering after it’s returned, securely to his pocket, “They always come out good, you know,”

Heck.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! don't forget to check out [my blog](http://www.notdeadimwriting.tumblr.com) and also [kirsten (cafephan)](http://www.cafephan.tumblr.com)
> 
> as always comments and such are always appreciated! thank you!
> 
> -abby


End file.
